


Catch-22

by I_touch_the_walls



Series: The End of the World as We Know it [1]
Category: Durarara!!
Genre: "Experimental Legal Drug" club, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - High School, Amphisbaena, Anal Sex, Angst, Anthropology, Attempted Kidnapping, Awakusu-Kai, Bets & Wagers, Canon-Typical Violence, College, Confessions, Denial of Feelings, Depressed Orihara Izaya, Dollars (Durarara!!), F/M, Fast Food, Fist Fights, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gambling, Gang Violence, Gangs, Gen, Graduation, Growing Up, Happy Sex, Heaven's Slave, High School, Izaya thinks he's his own therapist, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Light Dom/sub, Living Together, Love/Hate, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), POV Alternating, POV Third Person Limited, Pain, Post-Graduation, Post-High School, Psychology, References to Drugs, Rumors, Self-Denial, Sex, Shinra meddles, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow To Update, Stalking, Tags May Change, University, Yakuza, Yellow Scarves, catch-22, internalizing pain, minor Kida, minor Saki, shaky friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-15
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-06-20 04:20:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15525924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_touch_the_walls/pseuds/I_touch_the_walls
Summary: Catch-22 (KACH-twen-tee-TOO)nouna paradoxical situation from which there is no escape because of mutually conflicting or dependent conditions."A fight is never far away when you're classmates with Heiwajima Shizuo."Heiwajima Shizuo and Orihara Izaya meet by chance, instead of the way Kishitani Shinra planned, and their rocky friendship spells trouble for everyone trying to lead a peaceful life in the heart of Tokyo.





	1. Bet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Nice to meet you. You don't mind if I use Shizuo-san, do you? You're welcome to use my first name too."
> 
> Shizuo's staring at him, his face unreadable, and Shinra's still staring at him like he's got bees for brains, but Izaya doesn't care. Shinra might be afraid of a tall boy covered in injuries, but Izaya knows injuries mean weakness. Suddenly, Shizuo's face clears from its dark mask, and he exhales a sigh sounding like relief before humming agreement to Izaya's words and saying, "okay, Izaya-san."
> 
> He'd been expecting a storm, an angry voice and irritation, a declaration of rivalry, perhaps, from the way Shizuo's voice had been climbing in their brief conversation, but the clouds dispersed in a matter of seconds, gone before they could fully form.

Orihara Izaya was thirteen when he started placing bets.

It was nothing really worthwhile, five dollars to whatever classmate would drink someone's spoiled carton of milk or a pack of gum if someone could work up the courage to ask the student council's Vice President out. Eventually and inevitably, Izaya got bored of the lack of risk and the simplicity of the demands. When his winning became routine, he would force his loss just to see if anyone would get too eager, would bet too much money or change the bet all together, but even that was tame. In a year's time, he had stopped betting, brushing off his classmates' pestering until their chatter fell away, disheartened by his lack of interest.

But high school came with a surge of exhilaration, with new people to meet; people with jobs and richer parents than those who went to his middle school and people who placed more money on more entertaining bets. Sometimes, it was lecherous; a peer would place ten dollars on who would be getting it from the girl who boasted about being able to put condoms on with her mouth, and someone else would raise that bet to twenty if you could guess what week, thirty dollars if you could guess the day. Other times, it was morbid; a classmate would bring in news about a group of people dying together in a car, and then someone would bring in similar news a week later, and then someone would find another one only three days after that. They called the suicides "Death Cars" and began betting on when another car would be found, and the money would double if you guessed how many people were in the car, or what kind of car the police would find. And if it wasn't that, then they'd bet on sports; what team would win, why they would win, or even how long the games lasted.

Most of the time, Izaya didn't bet. It wasn't a large group of students, just the few reckless enough to put too much money into something too spotty. Often, there wasn't even enough people to get a decent bet out of.

But today, Izaya had made a bet and reaped the profits of it.

It was stupid and thoughtless and snowballed quickly out of hand. He had been watching a baseball game with a few classmates, none of which were particularly bright which was the point of being with them, when Izaya pointed out that he had received a sum of money recently and didn't know what to do with it. Perhaps the more dumber of his peers, Nakura, suggested he double it with a bet. Izaya, purposefully mistaking his suggestion for an invitation, offered a price to which Nakura blindly agreed. As the game continued and neither of them seemed to be making any headway on the bet, Izaya tacked on small amounts of money to useless situations that had nearly nothing to do with the game, but Nakura heedlessly complied with, until, by the time the game was over, Izaya had, suddenly, ended up with more money than he knew Nakura had.

As the price to his classmate's bad decisions had been handed over, Izaya, eager to brag and gloat, found his way to an old classmate's house, a location he had promised to be at at least an hour prior. At the very least, he has an excuse he knows the other boy will like.

His knocking on the door results in an unnatural response, a shouting of "come in!" instead of the the expected patter of running feet and a beaming face to greet him. Slightly miffed by this seeming dismissal of his arrival, Izaya opens the apartment door quick enough to catch a murmuring of "it must be Izaya-kun," but who he's talking to, Izaya can't guess; his classmate's usual roommate isn't the sort of person to leave a knocking door unattended.

Calmly, despite the thrum of irritation under his skin and the buzz of cash in his back pocket, Izaya lines his shoes along side the step of the entryway, right beside a pair of shoes too big to belong there. Anticipation strikes him suddenly, but he urges his pace down the hallway to be sedated and comfortable, as if he can't be bothered by the unexpected presence of a person he doesn't know.

"You're late," Izaya's told blandly as he enters the living room, an open space with a long, leather couch and a wondrously large television and a breeze moving in from the open balcony. He's being told off by a skinny boy with boring brown hair and even more boring glasses, bending over another boy draped across the couch, long limbs spread out in way that would've been mistaken as comfortable if it wasn't for the bleeding seeping through one of the pant legs and the puffy blue and purple around one of the stranger's wrists. The boy looks up from where he's been staring at his leg to watch Izaya, his face, admittedly handsome and framed by chemically blond hair, is unflappable except for the peeking curiosity Izaya can see around the stranger's eyebrows and the slope of his mouth.

"Yeah, well," Izaya says thoughtlessly, except he's putting all his thought into sounding thoughtless, and slouches onto one of the stools lined up by the breakfast bar made available in the open space. He spares a glance back at the mousy boy who's busing cleaning the cuts and bruises on the knuckles of the stranger with a cotton swab. "I've been busy. And it looks like you too, Shinra. I would've just been a drag if I showed up on time."

"You're being a drag now," the smaller boy, Shinra, says. But he takes the bait anyway, "what have you been _busy_ with?"

"Winning money," he responds. He can feel the stranger's stare on him, hot with flickering interest, curiosity, and caution underneath the stoic appearance. Izaya feels his muscles wanting to twitch up into a smile with mania.

"Hmmm..." Shinra begins bandaging the knuckles, ignoring the swollen wrist of the stranger's other hand; Izaya wonders briefly if Shinra's worried about facing the daunting injury. "And how'd you do that?"

His absentminded voice tells Izaya that Shinra knows their playing the game where Izaya says too little just so someone will ask him. But he keeps going, "I made a bet on the baseball game. A stupid, older student didn't know where to draw the line, so now I have two hundred dollars that wasn't his to begin with!"

At this, Shinra does seem to be mildly concerned, although it might just be because he's moved on to the swollen wrist. "If it wasn't his, why do you have it?"

"Because he's an idiot, I just told you that," he can feel the manic glee that winning against an idiot gives a person, the ill sought-after power, bubbling in his chest to rise to a laugh. "I don't even know the first thing about baseball!"

"Then you're an idiot too," the voice would've surprised Izaya if he hadn't been expecting it. The stranger is still staring at him, that much hasn't changed, but his mouth is tugging into a frown, the curiosity in his eyes pulling towards irritation, and his jaw beginning to clench, whether from Shinra's examination of his wrist or at Izaya flippancy, he doesn't know.

"Ah, he speaks," he catches Shinra mutter, that earns him an annoyed warning sound from the stranger. Izaya can't resist the smallest curve of his lips.

"What do you mean?" he asks the boy, even though he knows exactly what he means.

Again, Shinra is muttering, "Izaya-kun, I wouldn't if I were you," but it's drowned out by Izaya's lack of attention on him and the stranger's louder voice.

"You made a bet knowing nothing about what you were putting money on, that makes you an idiot too," the boy's voice is rough, the edges of irritation apparent even with the calm his physical body is showing off, still stretched out with one leg resting on the coffee table. "You shouldn't act all high and mighty, calling this guy stupid for spending more money than he had when you were prepared to do the same."

"I didn't place the bet expecting to win. I did it just to see what he would do," he tells him, letting his voice slink out of his throat. "If it had come to me losing, I wouldn't have bet more money than I had." It's a lie, actually, but he doubts anyone in the room has picked up on it; Izaya had been betting more money than he had to begin with.

Before their conversation can go any farther, though, Shinra cuts in, sounding like a parent breaking up two arguing children. "Alright, before you get carried away, how about we do introductions? I'd been wanting to introduce you two on my own terms, but I suppose this will do! Izaya-kun, this is Heiwajima Shizuo. Shizuo-kun, this is Orihara Izaya."

Shinra is giving Izaya a meaningful look as if he should recognize the name, but Izaya ignores him in favor of not admitting to not knowing a Heiwajima. Instead, his slick smile slides wider, and he knows exactly how he looks, suspicious and dangerous and that's exactly what he wants. "Nice to meet you. You don't mind if I use Shizuo-san, do you? You're welcome to use my first name too."

Shizuo's staring at him, his face unreadable, and Shinra's still staring at him like he's got bees for brains, but Izaya doesn't care. Shinra might be afraid of a tall boy covered in injuries, but Izaya knows injuries mean weakness. Suddenly, Shizuo's face clears from its dark mask, and he exhales a sigh sounding like relief before humming agreement to Izaya's words and saying, "okay, Izaya-san."

He'd been expecting a storm, an angry voice and irritation, a declaration of rivalry, perhaps, from the way Shizuo's voice had been climbing in their brief conversation, but the clouds dispersed in a matter of seconds, gone before they could fully form. He wasn't the only one on that line of thinking, from the way Shinra's eyes were darting between the pair, his mouth opening to say something before settling on quietly wrapping up Shizuo's wrist.

Izaya, made rash from his earlier bet and the frustration of losing the steam of an approaching quarrel, tries again. "Shizuo-san," he drawls, pulling the other boy's attention back on him. "Don't you get in trouble with that hair?"

"Huh?" is the only backlash he gets, Shizuo's unattended hand moving to self-consciously ruffle his hair.

"It's bleached, right? I mean, it's certainly not natural," he pesters. "The school doesn't allow that sort of thing, does it?"

"Ah, yeah, it does," he responds distractedly as Shinra ties his bandages in place. "So long as it's not something weird like blue or green. And you're not really one to talk, again," Shizuo's dark eyes are suddenly cutting into him, irritation at Izaya's prodding obvious with the forming scowl. "The school doesn't allow students to put bets on sports' games."

Izaya tosses a laugh at him, more for appearances than because he found anything Shizuo said funny. "You caught me! I don't actually care about the school rules at all!"

"Then why did you--"

But Shinra cuts off their squabbling again before it can turn into a real argument. "All done! You should be fine so long as you don't do anything with that wrist and keep some ice on it," he tells Shizuo, smiling brightly at him before turning to the first aid supplies he has littered on the coffee table. Izaya probably hasn't heard anything as stupid as that leave Shinra's mouth before, even Izaya knows that a swollen wrist bruised to an unnatural color needs at least a store-bought brace, not just some medical bandage wrapping from an immature high school boy who happens to have a doctor for a father. Although, admittedly, Shinra does exceed expectations, it seems farfetched to think he's fixed a sprained wrist and letting another student walk around without the protection of a brace.

But, instead, Izaya points out, "what about his leg?"

For a brief moment, everyone in the room is staring at Shizuo's leg, the one with red seeping through the pants and staining it beyond further use.

Then, Shinra laughs cheerily and returns to his cleaning. "Oh, that blood's not his! Everything will be fine so long as he doesn't get it on the carpet."

Shizuo leans back, unconcerned about his pants or his poorly taken care of wrist and nonchalantly says, "thanks, Shinra. I owe you one."

His response is airy with his usual bubbly chatter. "I thought we agreed that you don't owe me anymore? If I really held it to you, you'd always be in my debt." Shinra walks into the kitchen, precariously balancing the first aid items on top of each other.

Izaya's gaze flickers away from where Shinra's putting the supplies away to watch Shizuo stretching and standing, taller than he seemed when he was sitting, and anyone else would be intimidated by his height and his torn clothes and his injuries, but Izaya just stares, curious about the injuries and the seeming casual behavior, slouching in his seat, unconcerned by the mere idea of a delinquent.

"I'm leaving," is all Shizuo says, unprovoked and as if he has somewhere else to be, which he might, considering the hour. He doesn't look back at either of the other boys before making his way down the hall towards the door.

"Ah, bye, Shizuo-kun! See you tomorrow!" Shinra responds genially, standing to face the hallway.

Izaya parrots him, "bye," and the door is shut with a resounding shudder through the apartment. The absence of another, unfamiliar person brings Izaya's eyes to Shinra, who's back is now to him.

"Water?" Is all Shinra asks to the stare boring into him, and Izaya's only response is a hum.

When the water is placed in front of him, Shinra watched him sip from the aluminum cup, his regular, barely-there smile bearing down on him. When Izaya puts his cup to the side, Shinra starts off in his loud manner.

"I bet you have questions," he tells him and, without waiting for a response, eagerly beginning in an exaggerated voice. "Like, what are you doing with Heiwajima-san? _The_ Heiwajima-san! Aren't you scared? What happened to him? What do you mean you wanted to introduce us? What is my good, unassuming, friend, Kishitani Shinra doing with the overzealous, wild delinquent, Heiwajima Shizuo? Are you two, perhaps, friends? Something like that?" Shinra's voice cuts back to his normal, adolescent tone, and he looks intently at Izaya.

Instead of giving an immediate reply, he sips the water again, adopting an amused expression before saying, "not really." And then, carelessly, because it appears that Heiwajima Shizuo is someone to be feared and to prove that Izaya wouldn't, he shrugs, "who is Heiwajima?"

Shinra's face falls blankly surprised at his words, his mouth open before he even begins to speak. "You don't _know_ Shizuo-kun?"

"Well, its hardly been a week since school started," he keeps his voice carefully relaxed. "I can't talk to everyone in just a week."

"But you haven't even heard of him?" Shinra continues. "He's like a living legend! I can't believe _you_ don't know how he is!"

At that, Izaya's eyes flicker with irritation, and Shinra must have caught it because he's starting to guffaw, his glasses slipping down his nose. "So? What's so special about him, then? Tell me what makes him a living legend," Izaya's mocking voice cuts into the laughter.

"Seriously," Shinra says breathlessly. "He has inhuman strength. He can pick up soccer goals and swing them over his head, he's ripped the railing off of the school stairs to hit people with it, he's fought over fifty men, and won! He's unbelievable! Everyone knows who he is!"

He looks at Shinra quizzically and speaks flatly, "sorry, if I offend you, but I think you're exaggerating."

"Not in the slightest!" he doesn't seem at all miffed by Izaya's words. "I think I'm probably understating his ability! He's amazing!"

"Then explain the science behind it. Tell me how he can lift soccer goals over his head without breaking several of his bones," Izaya hooks his feet around the legs of the chair and lets his weight fall back so he's leaning away from Shinra, looking less invested in the conversation than the other. "If he's really so crazy, how come there aren't television shows about him? Reality TV likes that sort of thing, y'know."

"Oh, he did break his bones, all the time when we were kids," he seems even more avid about this topic of conversation than he had been to hear Izaya's questions. "Shizuo-kun was always in the hospital for strange things like broken femurs or a broken pelvis or his clavicle. None of the doctors really believed him when they were told the reason for his injuries, so child services started to look into it, but my father paid them off in agreement with Shizuo-kun's parents that Shizuo-kun would always go to my father's practice when he broke something. We weren't allowed to dissect, but, because he kept showing up at the hospital, we were allowed to run some tests on his DNA. Basically, Shizuo-kun is able to do so much because his body produces an unnaturally high amount of adrenaline all the time, unlike regular people, who only produce it when their lives are in danger. For some reason, Shizuo-kun's body thinks it's in a constant state of survival, so it's like he's always using the full potential of the human body! It's super cool, right?"

Izaya eyes him skeptically over the rim of the cup. "It sounds like you're telling me something you read in a manga. Besides, if he's damaging school property, wouldn't he have been expelled by now?"

"That's the thing about having superhuman strength, no one really believes you if you tell them, it's the sort of thing you have to see yourself," Shinra tells him, smiling like he's teaching him a lesson. "Most of the people on the school board don't actually believe there's a high school boy swinging stop signs around, even if the whole student body and the staff say so. I've heard the school board thinks it's all an elaborate hoax by the students that the teachers have all fallen for."

"That's--"

"Dumb? Yeah," he laughs. "But I think they just don't want to investigate it. That costs money, and, if they do, it might give the school a bad reputation."

"Not like our school is worth its reputation, if there are students still trying to fight a superhuman," Izaya agrees, but his voice is still mocking, lilting on the word _superhuman_ as if to prove that he still doesn't believe Shinra.

Shinra just shrugs and says, "just keep your eyes and ears open. After today's fight, I'm sure the rest of the gang will want a try. A fight is never far away when you're classmates with Heiwajima Shizuo."


	2. Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you want to get lunch?" is what he says, but it sound like a joke, like he's waiting for Shizuo to go ablaze again, or he's trying to stoke him into it.
> 
> He's still tense. "It's too late for lunch."
> 
> Izaya laughs, and it's smooth and velvety and he can hear the practice in it, but it breaks through Shizuo's concentration like a knife. "And it's too early for dinner. It's just a couple friends and me, we'll be meeting at a fast food joint. You don't even have to order a full meal. It'll be fun."

At first, Shizuo plans to forget all about him.

Well, it isn't so much of a plan as it is that he just regularly forgets people he never expects to see again. But Izaya's like a disease, once you meet him, once you acknowledge his existence as another person who occupies a piece of the same earth, he's everywhere. Certainly, Izaya is strange, but he didn't strike Shizuo as the stalking type, in fact, it's rather the other way around, despite how Shizuo tries to avoid looking for the other. They haven't spoken since the meeting at Shinra's house, almost a week ago. But Izaya is everywhere Shizuo needs to be.

The first time, Shizuo had been excused from his first period class to explain to his gym teacher the reason behind an unexcused absence, and found Izaya jogging around the track with his classmates. During lunch, he's in the back of the line waiting to buy bread when he hears a laugh like bells, faint and sweet, and he doesn't recognize it until he hears a sugary sweet voice thanking the vendor that Shizuo places it as Izaya; he thinks perhaps he would've liked Izaya more if he had met him that way, but all Shizuo sees is put-on personality and ducks his head, hoping Izaya doesn't notice him as he passes. Another time, Shizuo's leaving the restroom, his hands still damp and cooling from washing them, that he sees Izaya lounging against the wall and talking quietly to another classmate, a smirk on his face and gesturing with his hands; before he sees him, Shizuo turns around and peels off towards the stairs and walks the hallway of the first floor before taking another set of stairs up towards his classroom, and, if he returns late, no one says anything. Next, he's in the library to pick up the class's set of textbooks for the year, a chore he's become accustom to as the strongest member of his class, and Izaya's there, in the midst of the textbooks, kneeling on the ground to examine the lowest row of books, his lips barely parted and his eyes soft and looking like he's _interested_ ; Shizuo quickly finds sanctuary in the staff room joined to the library, quickly accompanied by a teacher with an empty coffee mug who doesn't seem concerned enough to say anything.

He doesn't think he would have ever noticed Izaya before if they had never met. It's incredibly likely that Izaya had been there all along, and Shizuo just didn't care enough to notice him before. He was similar to Shinra in that way, except that Shinra had gone out of his way to interact with Shizuo every chance he had when they were younger.

He wonders what it is about Izaya that's so compelling. He had, at first glance, looked relatively average, skinny with dark, natural hair, pale skin and slanting eyes and looked maybe a bit prettier than other boys their age, but still just a regular boy. But he'd smiled, cat-like, and it was the sort of face that made Shizuo want to punch him, but, also, he had felt that if he kept staring at it, he might've been able to point out all the things that made it fake that you didn't notice upon first seeing it. When he spoke, it was like he was trying to convince Shizuo, or to persuade him maybe, that he was stupid or he was never seeing the bigger picture or that there was something in this vast world that he was supposed to be searching for, and the only way to find it was to follow after Izaya. After that, all the shapes of Izaya were strange. His skinniness was sharp and, if Shizuo ever tried to grab onto him, he imagined Izaya would slip away from his fingers like smoke. His dark hair and dark clothes were like an armor, ominous and threatening and full of warnings. His eyes seemed like they could read the truth and tell the world lies, as easily as breathing. But his skin, Shizuo bet would bruise as quickly as he told his lies.

He's never entirely certain what makes him dislike Izaya or what makes him so captivating, but he knows a liar when he sees one, and he recognizes a fragile person too.

"I wouldn't worry about it," Shinra's laughing, maybe at his expense but what matters is that he's justifying Shizuo's feeling. "No one really _likes_ Izaya-kun, if he ever gives them the chance of a real conversation; or as real as it gets with him. It's more like, the people he surrounds himself with are simply enchanted by him, bewitched or something. There are people who downright hate him, but that's because he gave them something to hate him for. Adults just see a smart, quiet boy, and most of our classmates see a cool, distant, and attractive guy; just ask the girls. Some even call him a fortune teller."

Shizuo frowns, thinking before saying, "and you? You're not under some sort of spell from this guy?"

Shinra laughs again, a huff of air, his chopsticks searching around his empty bento box fruitlessly. "He's not actually a witch, he just knows how to talk to people. But I don't really care for other people or making relationships, not like people who seek Izaya-kun's company. We only met because I was told to join a club, and I wanted to find someone who cared just as little about it as I did. Izaya-kun fit the bill, so we made a Biology club together in middle school that had as much to do with Biology as it did with us wanting to hang out with each other. Most days, we never went to club activities, but since Celty thinks is such a great idea, we're still doing the same club even though we're in high school. You can join too, if you want; it looks great in your school files."

"No, thanks," Shizuo tells him, balling up the plastic wrap that was previously sealed around his sandwich. He's close to telling Shinra to stop prattling when the other boy opens his mouth to keep speaking.

"And you?" he asks, his ever-present, good-natured smile in place as he busies himself with covering his bento box.

Shizuo flattens the plastic wrap out, thoughtlessly examining the wrinkles before replying, "hate him."

The laugh that greets his words is breezy, "good on you."

That's the last conversation he has before he's facing down an assembly of older men, all with metal-studded jackets and hair bleached a horrendous orange, as everyone is leaving school. He recognizes them as belonging to the same group of men who attacked him earlier but sees none of the original attackers present, likely still in the hospital from the injuries they received at the start of the week.

The flow of students making their way to the front gate parts as the group walks through, leering at the students and asking, "Heiwajima? Heiwajima? Get out'ta here, you ain't Heiwajima."

Shizuo's already too late to avoid them, he's taller than the rest and bright blond, and a girl is pointing right at him when pestered with, "tell me where Heiwajima Shizuo is."

He doesn't blame her, he doesn't blame anyone who turns around to run out of the gates at the sight of the men and doesn't blame anyone who gives them a wide berth. It's better that way. But his anger flares at the students who back away to the tree line and pull out their phones, the ones who call out for their friends saying, "look! Another fight!" He's ready to kill the group of men for picking on high school students, for approaching them as the school hours end, for being too immature to end their stupid gang with their stupid hair and their stupid jackets and being too stupid that they pick a fight with Shizuo.

He's giving them exactly what they want, a fight with an audience, but he can't help it. They're the ones searching him out after he already unwittingly warned them against fighting him, and all he can hear ringing in his head is how _stupid_ they are, it's _their_ fault, they already _know_ , stupid adults, _stupid, stupid, stupid_.

"This is for thinkin' you could fuck with our group and get away with it!" one of them, maybe the leader, but they all look the same anyway, shouts. He's lifting a metal rod over his head, swinging heavy with intent, and it lands with a sickening thud against Shizuo's stomach.

Shizuo forgets what he's doing in times like this. When he's fighting, he's not actively thinking about his actions; most of the time, he couldn't even explain exactly _what_ he did, just that he did it. It is, to him, like watching the world unfold in a vintage film, the ones with the faded color and voices just barely off time with the movement of the actors' mouths. He senses their fear, smells something strange in the air like metal, and maybe it's blood or his anger or just the static electricity of _too much_ happening at once; he knows he's moving and where towards, and he hears their shouts, just a little too late like the sound has to burrow through his skull before reaching his brain, but it doesn't really matter, since it always sounds the same.

"Oh shit!"

"Fuck Takashi! He told us the wrong info!"

"My...my arm...!"

"We need to go! _Go_!"

"Who the hell is this guy?!"

There are screams too, but those just fuel Shizuo. He thinks, if he just keeps breaking their bones and making them scream, their stupidity will leave with their voices too. He forgets those thoughts when he calms down, the ones that say breaking makes them better, makes him better, cleanses the world of stupid people; but they drive him when he's angry and makes it harder to stop, like adding charcoal lighter fluid to an already flaming fire.

The voice takes a second to reach him, like it always does, but even when he hear it, it doesn't make much sense. It's too late to be of use, the gang has already lost, their lying helpless on the sidewalk or running away, too far away for Shizuo to chase, groaning and mumbling. He thought he had gotten everyone, fought back everyone who came with the intention of teaching him a lesson, and, after his devastating display, it's pointless to try.

"Do you need any help?"

 It doesn't occur to him that someone is asking him if he needs help. It's an unheard of phenomenon; of course Heiwajima Shizuo doesn't need help. The voice, though, sounds sincere, ringing out across the walkway and turns the murmuring of watching students silent. Shizuo snaps his head around, searching, his blood still running with eagerness and the need to destroy; it didn't matter who is coming to the rescue. He can break them just as easily as their friends.

His face falls as quickly as his heart stalls and feels it realign into bewilderment.

The voice might have been sincere, but the face is pulled into an impish grin and eyes lined with lunacy, it seems. He's slouching with too much ease that it has to be practiced, and his head is cocked upward, just slightly towards Shizuo, so he can see the smirk painted across his face like a display.

All Shizuo can offer is a growling, "huh?" There's nothing more he can say, nothing more he knows to say. It's one thing to destroy whatever tries to hurt him, it's another thing to be met with a person, however devilish, that inquires about his wellbeing. It stumps him.

Shinra's moving out of the depths of Izaya's shadows like he's summoned, smiling a bit wider but still just as easygoing, telling the remaining students watching, "we should probably go now, before the teachers show up! Come on, guys, let's leave before we get in trouble!"

The crowd breaks their silence, mumbling to each other and nodding agreement, drifting away from the chaotic scene with looks of curiosity and confusion, but their better judgement winning as they leave the front gates.

Shinra is still smiling, watching their classmates leave before glancing back at Izaya like a soldier awaiting orders. But Izaya still has his eyes on Shizuo, and, when he speaks again, it's no longer sincere. His gaze flickers to Izaya's lips, and their dripping gasoline as he opens them, like he's waiting for a match to light it on fire, and Shizuo has a sudden, clear thought that Izaya's trying to provoke him.

"Do you want to get lunch?" is what he says, but it sound like a joke, like he's waiting for Shizuo to go ablaze again, or he's trying to stoke him into it.

He's still tense. "It's too late for lunch."

Izaya laughs, and it's smooth and velvety and he can hear the practice in it, but it breaks through Shizuo's concentration like a knife. "And it's too early for dinner. It's just a couple friends and me, we'll be meeting at a fast food joint. You don't even have to order a full meal. It'll be fun."

Shizuo doesn't believe him for a second that the meeting will be fun, but he's also never been asked out to lunch or asked out to do anything with other people at all; he knows it's hitting a weak spot, can feel the tenderness in him like a bruise, and, if it's pushed right, he'll buckle at the knees. His eyes dart to Shinra, as if he will provide some resistance, but Shinra's smile is like a blank mask.

Izaya must have caught his glance, because he says next, "Shinra will be coming too."

It shouldn't make him feel better, Shinra and Izaya seem to be cut from the same cloth, but Shizuo lets his muscles relax, and he stops glaring. But his voice his still hard when he replies, "fine."

"Great," he says jovially, pulling a cell phone from his pocket. "I'll tell them I'm bringing a plus one."

The walk to the restaurant is uncomfortable and long, although, it seems as if he's the only one who thinks so. The other two communicate in rapid-fire exchanges, too quick for Shizuo to keep up with, and he eventually gives up. Sometimes they break to ask him a question, and Shizuo, not paying attention, stalls his answer until they ignore his reply, talking amongst each other like birds.

"Oh, wow, that was quick!" Shinra cheerfully exclaims as they approach the restaurant. Shizuo wants to contradict, but he thinks that he's been too much of a pessimist along the way, brooding and deflecting questions, so he keeps his silent.

Izaya, smirk still fitting his face, looks up from his phone to tell them, "Dotachin says their already here, by the restrooms."

Shizuo doesn't recognize the name and trails behind the other boys as a fit of anxiety, not entirely unexpected but stinging nonetheless, hits him. He's suddenly reminded that the last person he's ever met who wanted to continue hanging out with him was Shinra, and that had been five years ago. It strikes Shizuo that these people will be no different, no matter if they hang out with Izaya and do his bidding. These people will be just afraid of him as his classmates running out the front gates this afternoon.

They pause in front of two boys idly leaning against the wall. Shizuo recognizes both of them as upperclassmen and shrinks a little, knowing that their knowledge of him has already painted its picture.

"Hey!" Izaya tells them, even though they've already been seen.

"What took you so long?" is one of the boys' replies. He's taller than Shinra and Izaya, barely, with slicked-back hair and broad shoulders.

"There was a fight," Shinra explains poorly, but is promptly cut off by the other, more unfamiliar boy.

"Hurry up, I want to order," he says gruffly, but stays leaning against the wall as if he's still waiting for something.

Izaya's smirk widens, hands in his pockets, like he's about to tell a joke. "Aw, did you guys really wait for us to start eating?"

"Shut up," the broad shouldered one is saying, but his smile is genuine as he pulls himself off the support of the wall. "Let's get in line."

They move as one body, easily following into line behind the other customers. By some unfortunate stroke of luck, Shizuo finds himself at the front of the group and can't bring himself to turn around and introduce himself to the upperclassmen, not without the aid of Shinra, who is proving himself useless as a crutch.

Instead, he hears behind him a hasty whisper. "You brought Heiwajima Shizuo as your plus one?" He can't place the voice, and, when he would usually feel anger at being talked about behind his back, quite literally, he can't help the embarrassment and shame that creeps into its place. He's being gawked at because someone wanted to bring him along.

The laughter, however, is unmistakably Izaya, no matter how quiet he's being. "Interesting, isn't he?"

That's the end of the conversation, or the last that Shizuo can hear of it. The cashier is calling him up, and he slides over the pitiful amount of money he'd been able to gather from the bottom of his school bag to pay for fries and a soft drink. As their orders are completed, they take to one of the larger tables by the wall, Shizuo sitting as close to the window as possible; the open view feels like an escape from the pressing presence of unfamiliarity. He watches Izaya sneakily poke Shinra in the ribs, taking the seat the other boy had been aiming for when his attention is stolen, and deliberately sitting across from Shizuo with a winning smile. Shizuo looks down at his drink as Shinra huffs a knowing laugh.

"Shizuo-kun," Shinra starts without a comment on Izaya's behavior, his smile properly in place. "You don't know our upperclassmen, do you?"

Shizuo glances over at them, the one with longer hair having taken the farthest seat from him, diagonal and on the opposite side of the table, while the broad shouldered one is sitting one seat away from Shizuo's side; he pretends it's due to comfort rather than fear, since both of them are tall and gangly. 

"No," he replies.

"He's Kadota Kyouhei," Shinra indicates to the boy sitting to Shizuo's side; Kadota offers a gentle smile. "And this is his friend, Togusa Saburo." Togusa's response is more muted, a look of distrust in his eyes as he gives a small wave. But neither of them are running, and Shizuo takes it with a sigh of relief.

Yet, there's a pause, quiet, save for the wrinkling of Izaya nonchalantly unwrapping his burger. Everyone else is watching him as if their expecting him to say something. "Uh...I'm Heiwajima Shizuo--"

Izaya laughs loudly. "Idiot, they already know that."

Shizuo's tension breaks like that, his gaze coming to rest as a glare on Izaya's face. "Then what do you want me to say?" he snaps, and Togusa flinches out of the corner of his eye, but his attention is on Izaya's casual shrug.

"Whatever you want. Just don't do something as boring as introducing yourself."

"Everyone else was doing introductions!"

"But everyone already knows you," his smirk is small, but his eyes bright. "Your introduction is useless."

Shizuo opens his mouth to retaliate when Shinra interrupts. "Don't listen to him, Shizuo-kun, I thought you did great. Besides, he's the one being useless right now."

Shinra's sly comment causes a brief disruption in Izaya's pestering, turn his sharp smile into irritation, so suddenly honest that Shizuo is startled.

"What's that mean?" Izaya asks, but he's ignored in favor of Shinra turning to Kadota.

"You guys aren't scared of Shizuo-kun, are you?" Shinra's blunt and unexpected question brings Shizuo to choke on air. "He's not being himself right now because he's nervous. As his only friend and part-time doctor, I can tell."

Kadota and Togusa stare at him in bewilderment, as if they're not used to Shinra's brazenness, and Shizuo grabs at his drink, taking a large swallow to quell his coughing, feeling his face heat. Before he can defend himself, Kadota starts in a mystified but equally reassuring tone.

"Not really...I've seen him fight before, and I've heard the rumors, but I'm not one to make assumptions about a person because of that," his voice grows in confidence as he speaks, finding Shizuo's eyes and keeping their hold. "This is the first time I've ever been close to you, but you don't seem like a bad person."

"Ah..." Shizuo mumbles. He's not sure what to say, his words dying in his throat as his face heats, but he can't look away from the older boy, his gaze is too strong, like it's commanding Shizuo's attention. "Thanks, Kadota-senpai."

Togusa seems to take this acceptance as his turn to speak, grinning now instead of flinching. "As for me, I've got no idea what kind of person you are, but I admire you in a fight, and I think that's enough for right now."

Togusa and Kadota both laugh, low and short like Togusa's told them a joke only the two of them can understand.

"Togusa-senpai really likes to fight," Shinra explains as the older students laugh. "That's actually how he met Kadota-senpai."

Shizuo hums his understanding, watching them distractedly. Their acceptance of him seems too easy, too casual; they took him with a grain of salt, regarding him as an average high school student with the faintest abnormality. It seems as if they are giving him the opportunity to be ordinary; or so he hopes, at least.

"Now that you've got yourself some senpais," Izaya speaks up, lingering on the word _senpais_ as if this is all a hoax rather than an honest interaction. "Tell us about yourself. It's only fair that in exchange for hanging out with you, we get to know more about the school's biggest delinquent!"

"Huh?" he growls, his attention fully redirected back to Izaya. "I don't care if _you_ hang out with me or not. I'm not asking for your friendship in exchange for anything. I'd just be wasting my time."

He hears Shinra giggling, but his focus is on Izaya's face pulling into a mask of hurt, like he's mocking Shizuo. "A waste of time? After I offered my help to you and found you some friends? Really, now. I just want to get know you better."

"Bullshit," Shizuo snaps. Izaya's face isn't faking injury anymore; his gaze is on Shizuo, and his lips are parting on the hint of a grin. Maybe, to others, he looks like a boy extended delighted kindness to another, but Shizuo's starting to recognize the manic glow in his eyes, the eagerness he knows he must feel at the idea of something new and dangerous. He would be alarmed for anyone else, would warn against such recklessness, but Izaya's mania is enticing, spreading like the disease the other boy is, and makes Shizuo want to see how far he'll go, how far Izaya will push himself just to taste a bit more freedom, a bit more of the other side of the world. His own sudden fascination shocks him and brings him back to the present, where's he's supposed to be eating lunch with his classmates and discussing mundane topics and making bad jokes.

But when Izaya says, "why don't we be friends?" Shizuo watches him, a glare more than anything, repulsed by his own interest and recklessness, before saying, "fine."

That seemed to be the end of it, of the oddity that had just befallen Shizuo. Abruptly, as if no one else had noticed their conversation, lunch returned itself to being completely average in all aspects, or what he assumes is average when compared to the conversations he hears from other classmates. The only abnormalities come in the form of Shinra discussing his passion for a girl who he claims he can't identify due to her identity being classified, which results in skepticism from the whole crowd, though Shizuo doesn't need to give even an educated guess to know who he's talking about, and Togusa relaying a story about a fight he saw, so unrealistic that even Shizuo couldn't bring himself to believe it.

When they do finally part for the evening, Kadota and Togusa leave together on the word of meeting up with another group of friends, and Izaya takes a separate path, declaring that he has important business to take care of, which Shizuo thinks he only says to sound more important than he is. In the end, Shinra and Shizuo are left to walk home together.

"What a strange day," Shinra says, sounding more like he's speaking to himself than to Shizuo.

Shizuo mumbles his agreement, changing his school bag from one hand to the other more for something to do than out of discomfort.

"This is going to sound a bit hypocritical," Shinra's voice is suddenly pensive, and he's adopting an uncharacteristic calmness. "Since I'm friends with Izaya-kun. But I think it would be wise if you're careful around him. He seems very smart and enigmatic, but he's also very cunning. He likes to make adult decisions even when it's not his place, but he's also quite childish. Izaya-kun doesn't really care for other people's feelings, y'know, and that makes him dangerous. I hope you understand?"

Shizuo considers Shinra. The look he's being given is a cool collectedness, as if Shinra is looking right passed him to look inside of him, except he's not talking about Shizuo, he's talking about someone else, as if he can see the other person inside Shizuo and is trying to pull him out. "Where are you going with this?"

Shinra returns him with his breezy laugh and looks away. For a second, it's looks as if the Shinra Shizuo's always known has returned, but his words are clear and calm as water. "All I'm trying to say is, you might not like Izaya-kun, so it's probably best if you don't dig into him too deep. Izaya-kun might lash out."

"That's a really weird warning," he tells the other boy. Uncertainty and uneasiness prickles along Shizuo's neck, but, with Shinra's next words, the boy seems to be come back to himself.

"That aside, I'm happy about your friendship!" he says, grinning. "I really hope you guys get along!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, guys, thank you for all the feedback so far! It makes me so happy to hear from you and know what everyone is thinking!
> 
> If you want to support me and receive updates on my fics, as well as any aesthetics or art I make for them, you can follow me [here](https://i-touch-the-walls.tumblr.com).


	3. Troublesome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Wh--Stop calling me that," is what he says, and Izaya had been expecting everything but.
> 
> Izaya's own shock causes him to laugh, sincere for the first time in what feels like a long time and what actually might be months. "Since we're friends, I get to call you Shizu-chan. We've established this already."
> 
> "Just because you've established this, doesn't mean I have," Shizuo growls, his surprise giving way to his regular irritation. "And I don't agree."

 Izaya had been impatient.

He hated to admit it, even to himself. He valued his calm and patient demeanor and how often adults praised him for his mature personality. But when Shinra had told him about Heiwajima Shizuo and his superhuman strength, his blood had roiled. Shinra had told him a fight was never far from Shizuo, and, yet, a fight hadn't broken out for days. Had it been anyone else, Izaya would have just waited. But nearly a week had passed, and the gang Shinra told him about still hadn't made a move. So Izaya took matters into his own hands.

It wasn't hard to find the gang who had made an attempt at Shizuo. Most students seemed thrilled to tell him about it when asked; they described the gang as older men with orange hair and leather jackets, and a group of too-willing boys admitted to seeing them meeting up at the Seibu Highway bus stop every other day. After that, it wasn't hard to send someone he knew, Takashi, to wait at the bus stop to drop hints and lies about Shizuo falling ill after the last fight in exchange for a small sum of money.

His impatient behavior won in the end, and the gang had made a move right as the students were leaving for the weekend. And Shinra had been right; Shizuo was unbelievable. He moved broken and jagged, like the fight he was waging was crescendoing into a war inside himself, and he was trying to repel every part of himself, but all he attracted was the violence that made his movements flawless. It was all Izaya needed to make his own move.

Heiwajima Shizuo turned out to be as awkward in a social environment as he was incomparable in a fight. He was easier to tease and pester than Izaya thought he would be, and just as quickly gave into Izaya's ill-offered friendship.

In fact, Izaya thought it had been too easy, when he began to recognize an ever-present feeling of unease, as if he was being watched.

He hadn't bothered to ask Shinra much about Shizuo after their first evening, not wanting to let on to the other boy his sudden interest in the high school's "living legend." He had assumed, which, looking back, he knows was another impatient flaw, that Shizuo was much like every high school boy, save for his excessive strength and short temper. Whenever Izaya had seen him, and he noticed Shizuo much more often, he seemed to eat the same things, talk the same way, and study the same way as most of the other students. His interests seemed regular, and he had few friends.

But now Izaya is beginning to wonder if Shizuo's strength isn't the only reason he only has Shinra as a friend.

After the fight and after the lunch when Shizuo met Kadota and Togusa, Shizuo has been everywhere. But not by chance or mistake, Izaya doesn't just _stumble_ upon Shizuo, in fact, Shizuo is stumbling upon Izaya; on purpose, he's beginning to think. It's one thing to invite Shizuo to eat lunch with him on the roof than to eat it alone in his classroom or to walk to the train stop with Shinra and him. But Shizuo is in the library when Izaya never told him he'd be there, he's walking by Izaya's classroom before school and lingering, and Izaya would hold his breath, waiting to see if he'd enter the classroom and finally, finally talk to him, but then Shizuo would walk away just before the bell rings; some days, after Izaya has boarded his usual train and left Shinra and Shizuo to walk home, he'd notice Shizuo peeling away from Shinra to take the same train on a different cart, and then, on those same days, Izaya would see him late in the evening out in the city.

Izaya doesn't talk about it. He'd thought Shizuo had business of his own that he didn't tell anyone about, and it only happened to coincide with Izaya's business. It made sense, initially, that someone dangerous did equally dangerous things. But when Izaya attempted to tail Shizuo, Shizuo's journey led him nowhere except into the racks of an expensive retail store and a food court, running around in circles. And that was when Izaya began to think, Shizuo was following him. Not just following him--stalking him. Even then, he didn't talk about it.

It isn't the first time he's had a stalker, not when he looks weaker than boys his age and lives in Ikebukuro and has two younger, clever sisters. But it's the first time he's not sure what to do with his stalker. Getting rid of one usually means getting rid of one for, well, forever; and Izaya doesn't want to get rid of Shizuo forever, just briefly, long enough for him to get where he needs to be without being tailed. It's troublesome, not being able to make money because of someone he's befriended on purpose.

He hadn't calculated this, hadn't expected Shizuo to be a stalker. The other boy seemed more interested in minding his own business than sticking his nose in others. And Izaya's attempts to adapt to this new development are falling short.

It's becoming evident to him that either this is Shizuo's first attempt at stalking, or he's not very intelligent. He noticed the other boy immediately, and no matter how many hours or days pass by, Shizuo's method doesn't get any better. Izaya has let evenings pass amongst malls and restaurants instead of going downtown like he had intended, watching Shizuo instead as he fumbles to keep up or stay behind just enough to be unnoticeable.

But tonight, Izaya needs Shizuo to leave him alone, and, despite Shizuo's lack of ability, he's been very persistently keeping up with Izaya no matter how he tries to lose him.

Izaya leads him into a shoe store, browsing until he reaches the back of the store, his eyes flickering over the clearance section with disinterest. Shizuo chooses to take the aisle across from him, separated by a shelf of shoes. It's not hard for Izaya to carefully lose the other boy among the shelves, and, through a crack between the boxes, he can see Shizuo turning his head from side to side, dropping the price tag he had been pretending to examine, before fixing his gaze on the store's entrance as what Izaya determines as his only way to know if Izaya leaves the store.

Izaya takes a deep breath, quiet so Shizuo doesn't recognize him, and slouches his shoulders and letting his face fall soft, his appearance easy and calm, before he rounds the corner and comes face to face with Shizuo.

"Oh!" he exclaims in forced surprise, looking up towards the other boy so he can see the shock written on Izaya's face. "Shizu-chan, what are you doing here?"

Shizuo's mouth is open and his eyes wide as if Izaya had grown a third arm. The surprise on Shizuo's face is new to Izaya, having grown accustom to his scowls and irritated remarks and bored frowns, and he feels a strange satisfaction flicker in his belly that keeps him from talking as Shizuo regains his voice.

"Wh--Stop calling me that," is what he says, and Izaya had been expecting everything but.

Izaya's own shock causes him to laugh, sincere for the first time in what feels like a long time and what actually might be months. "Since we're friends, I get to call you Shizu-chan. We've established this already."

"Just because _you've_ established this, doesn't mean _I_ have," Shizuo growls, his surprise giving way to his regular irritation. "And I don't agree. What happened to calling me Shizuo-san?"

Izaya ignores his question, instead feeling a grin creep onto his face. "I'm letting you call me Iza-chan, if you want. It's not my fault you won't take me up on my offer."

"There never was an offer!" he hisses, gesturing to Izaya. "And no way am I calling you _that_!"

"Whatever," Izaya responds, shrugging his shoulders in a nonchalantness only gained from repetition. "Are you planning to buy anything?"

"Huh?" Shizuo asks sharply, brought back, it seems, by Izaya's question. He looks around at the shelves and back at the shoes he'd been inspecting before saying. "Um, no. Are you?"

"No," Izaya responds truthfully, then lies, "nothing I like has my size. Are you going anywhere after this?"

He can see the inexperience in Shizuo's eyes as he tries to muster a lie. "Uh, no. I was, um, looking for a new pair of tennis shoes. My mom said I needed new ones. But, um...none of the ones here fit."

Izaya let's Shizuo slide with his horrible excuse for a lie, only because he's about to be late to where he needs to be. "Are you going to look through other stores?"

His eyes find Izaya's and just as quickly dart away, but not before Izaya can catch the panic there telling him all he needs to know. "Uh, no, I think I'm going to go home...my mom told me not to stay out too late...Are you going home?"

"No," he responds with false cheerfulness. "I think I'll pick up dinner for my sisters tonight. They've been complaining about wanting takeout, and, since I'm here, I might as well." It's only a half lie, he does plan to bring them food, but only after he's finished what he went out to do.

"Well, uh," Shizuo glances at the store's entrance, his hand coming up to ghost at the back of his neck. "I guess I'll be going..."

Izaya drowns out the rest of his words with a bright, "yeah, see you at school!"

He leaves before Shizuo, quickly, heading towards the food court, but not before he can be certain that Shizuo really is leaving. He'd already felt secure about the other boy making his leave, after being embarrassed and surprised, but, after all this, he knows there isn't something as being too sure. But Shizuo really does leave, even if it is reluctant and red-faced, through the mall's double doors and out into the busy street.

Izaya then backtracks, turning out of the food court and towards one of the smoking lounges he's too young to be allowed in, but his fake ID is weighing heavy in his wallet, and he's eager to give it a first try. It works, but not without some skepticism from the man who checks him in, and Izaya is walking confidently towards one of the couches where a boy, quite Izaya's opposite, is waiting, his shoulders rounded in and his hands on his knees, eyes darting from side to side before looking down again.

Izaya approaches him, his tone polished as he says, "hey, Nakura-kun. Thanks for waiting."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a couple of aesthetics for [Shizuo](https://i-touch-the-walls.tumblr.com/post/177283206185/raijinheiwajima-shizuo-aesthetic-from-my-fic) and [Izaya](https://i-touch-the-walls.tumblr.com/post/177563311465/raijinorihara-izaya-aesthetic-from-my-fic) on Tumblr!
> 
> This chapter was really short, and you guys had to wait such a long time...I'm sorry! The next one will be longer, I promise!


	4. Undercover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "But despite Izaya's seemingly meaningless extrusions, Shizuo notices a change in the air. He wants to say it's a change in behavior, but all of Izaya that Shizuo seems to find a clear grasp on is the air around him, like he's tainting the oxygen Shizuo has to breathe in. But, at least, if he can't grasp on to the physical form of Izaya, he can still find him by the trail he leaves."

Subtlety isn't Shizuo's forte. Never has been.

He knows this, knows that he sticks out like a sore thumb and by his own design. His hair, his lack of control over his temper, his brooding personality, all his fault. People stare no matter where he goes. So he feels like an idiot, when he thinks he'll get away with going undercover.

That's what he's calling it, but he knows, _he knows_ , what he's doing; he knows that following somebody, going undercover to trail after them, it's called stalking. But it's hard for him to think that it is. And he supposes that's what all stalkers think-- _it's not really stalking_. But their purpose is out of love, twisted, distorted, disgusting feelings. Shizuo, though, isn't driven by that; he'd never. He wouldn't break into someone's house, steal their possessions, threaten their friends, tape every interaction like a real-deal stalker would. Shizuo is driven by concern. He thinks that's also what stalkers tell themselves, but he keeps telling himself, at least he isn't breaking into houses or hurting anyone.

It disgusts him too, when he's in the middle of crossing a street at ten in the evening or brushing by an employee in a tea house in Shinjuku or glancing at the price tags in a department store he can barely afford to even walk into, trailing after the few curls of smoke Izaya leaves behind. Because he's stalking someone, someone who probably isn't even worth stalking, and he's wasting his hours after school following someone he can barely stand to be around.

He hates Izaya more because of it, and he knows this too, knows he's projecting. Shizuo never imagined he'd be doing this, would be choosing to do this, and he hates people who stalk others; he hates himself for falling into it. He has a list, numbers of all the things he hates, and he's right there at the top, and stalking has squeezed in between the lines as if he needs anything more to hate himself for. So he projects and hates Izaya for turning him into a stalker. He hates him for making him concerned; hates him because the concern isn't even for Izaya, it's for himself. He can't stand the idea of having to hate one more person on this earth, so he follows Izaya, making sure he won't do something Shizuo could hate him for, and Shizuo hates Izaya for making him feel like it's a necessity.

It was bad enough, making friends with such an annoying person, more a pest than anything else, but Shinra's words ate at him more than anything else. _"You might not like Izaya-kun, so it's probably best if you don't dig into him too deep."_ But Shizuo was tired of disliking people, tired of not understanding, upset that the only other person who'd want to make friends with him was someone Shizuo was going to hate. So he was determined not to, to make sure that no matter what Izaya said, he wouldn't hit him, that he'd always make sure Izaya didn't do horrible things, so he wouldn't be disappointed.

Except, he hates Izaya passionately, and every day is a test in self-control.

He's been following Izaya outside of school for a week now, and, while they're in school, Izaya invites or at least hints that Shizuo should be with him. Izaya calls it hanging out; Shinra calls it observing an experiment sample. Shizuo never invites himself though. It's always Izaya, and it's gratifying, in a way, to be asked to do something, even if he hates him.

_"Did you bring your lunch? Eat with me on the roof, Shinra will be there."_

_"I skip class all the time. I thought a delinquent like you would too."_

_"Do you have any clubs? What am I saying? Of course you don't!"_

_"Do you not like the roof? I think it's cool. I usually eat there."_

_"Shinra and I are in the Bio club. It's complete bullshit. You can hang out there too, it's not like I can stop you."_

_"What? You don't want to skip math class? Boring."_

It usually sounds like that; condescending, rude, inviting. Izaya asks him to do everything, down to fighting.

_"I know you want to fight," Izaya drawled, a grin like a cat's marring his face and his eyes unblinking like he couldn't afford to miss a single word Shizuo said._

_Shizuo wanted to hit him, it would feel good. There was an itching against his knuckles, his anger building in the pit of his stomach like acid, but he had said, "shut up," instead._

_"Aw," Izaya leaned back, his sandwich bought from the lunch-line sitting lonely in his lap. "You can't be that worried about me."_

_"I'm not, it just wouldn't be much of a fight," Shizuo pointed at the wrapped sandwich, ignored the curling of eager anger tainting the back of his mouth. "If you aren't going to eat that, I will."_

Izaya's mouth runs like a sewing machine as if he always has something to say, or he thinks he's going to run out of time; it's usually nonsense, though. It's easy to ignore him, once he understands Izaya's speech flow; it's similar to Shinra's in a way, his rapid talk about things only he's interested in, using big words only he'd know, talking about people as if they aren't really there. The biggest difference that Shizuo has found though, is that Izaya asks questions. Sometimes, it's to make sure Shizuo's still listening, like a test, other times, he really wants Shizuo's opinion; not the way Shinra asks questions, where he'll just laugh and continue with his story no matter what the reply was. And, while Izaya's talk usually stays on a similar topic, the content varies, as if Shizuo searched up a common term in a search engine and is reading the different articles; Shinra only talked about one thing and the same thing, every day.

It's become apparent, too, that Izaya likes gossip. Shizuo never paid attention to it before, but Izaya knows it all, whether it's boring and pointless or something that could change the count of students in a classroom. But Izaya doesn't share gossip with Shizuo because he thinks Shizuo would spread it, Izaya just wants someone to make fun of; he mocks--it was what he does--and it spares no one. It's clear to Shizuo that Izaya doesn't take his own gossip seriously, which is of some relief to Shizuo.

But Izaya's gossip changed after their heart pounding, adrenaline crushing meeting in a shoe store. Shizuo was certain that Izaya had found him out then, that he was done for; Izaya's the kind of person who would crush him completely if he truly felt threatened. He imagined their communication would be nil, his effort wasted, his after school hours suddenly empty. But Izaya seemed surprised to see Shizuo, a wonderful contrast from what he'd been expecting. He hadn't breathed easy until the next day though, when Izaya never brought up the topic of seeing Shizuo outside of school. He didn't follow him for a couple days after, until his embarrassment and alarm wore off, and he felt safe in making sure that Izaya wasn't up to no good.

Izaya's after school trips still seemed meaningless, a waste of time and money that Shizuo couldn't figure out where he got it from. His theories vary regularly, and he can manage to convince himself of almost all of them until Shinra cuts him down.

"So his parents _aren't_ rich?" Shizuo huffs, bag slung over one shoulder, his gaze on Shinra beside him.

"I wouldn't say their rich," Shinra is making gestures with his hands and grinning, as if he's having too much fun talking about Izaya when he isn't here. "But their not middle class."

Shizuo glares, his eyes still on Shinra as his voice lowers in irritation. "Then that means their rich. Right?"

"Maybe lower high class?" he says, dropping his hands in exchange for pulling his phone out of his pocket. "But Izaya-kun doesn't really get money from them, or that's what he tells me. I guess they don't want to spoil him."

Shizuo falls silent at this confirmation, turning away to watch his feet eat up the sidewalk rather than watch Shinra as he allows himself to be absorbed into his phone. After minutes of silence, he asks plainly, "does Izaya-kun sell drugs?"

" _What_?" is Shinra's response, absurdly loud and skeptical, a laugh peaking through. "I'm sure he knows where to get them, but he kind of thinks it's low work. I can say, with ninety seven percent certainty, Izaya-kun does not sell drugs." Then, he yelps, holding his phone high over his head and exclaiming with more enthusiasm, "Celty says we're going out to eat tonight! It'll be just like a date!"

But despite Izaya's seemingly meaningless extrusions, Shizuo notices a change in the air. He wants to say it's a change in behavior, but all of Izaya that Shizuo seems to find a clear grasp on is the air around him, like he's tainting the oxygen Shizuo has to breathe in. But, at least, if he can't grasp on to the physical form of Izaya, he can still find him by the trail he leaves.

The air is tangy, like the faintest smell of the metal Shizuo has come to associate with his out of control rampages. It's like Izaya is growing restless or impatient or unrestrained; maybe all three. His body moves the same way, he eats the same things, he uses too big words, but Shizuo can feel a storm crawling under Izaya's skin, electricity buzzing through his veins and thunder in his lungs. He's waiting for something, Shizuo can tell.

And that's when Shizuo notices Izaya's idle gossiping chatter is a bit more than just idle high school gossip.

"Remember Nakura-kun, Shizu-chan?" Izaya's lounging on the lip of the school roof, his back pressed into the fence links as he uses his chopsticks to search around the takeout box serving as his lunch. His lips are curving over the bite of cold noodles, as if he's trying not to smile but can't help himself.

Shizuo looks away from the sharp edge of the other's mouth, his blood boiling with sudden irritation, too familiar with the growing regularity of Orihara Izaya. He takes a too-large bite of his own lunch and, without thinking, says, "no."

"He's the guy who lost the baseball bet to me," Izaya tells him plainly, and Shizuo can see Izaya looking at him, his face fuzzy from his peripheral.

Sudden memory brings back the flash of frustration and aggravation he felt when he met Izaya, and the plastic wrap of his bread crinkles in his grip as he responds dully, "oh."

Izaya seems to take no offense, or ignores him completely, as he continues on, as he always does when it comes to his sharing of his endless and equally useless information. "Well, he's in a lot of debt, you remember--?"

Shizuo makes an agreeable sound, which is more of a plain hum around a bread and meat filling.

"And I've heard he's trying to gamble to get it all back," this time, Shizuo looks at Izaya. He's still sitting, still leaning against the fence, still eating; his smile is gone, as if he's found it in him to gain control of his eagerness.

"Gambling isn't allowed in school," Shizuo responds forthright, more because he recognizes the desire for a response than because he felt the need to point the fact out.

Izaya does smile then, condescending or teasing, if you ask someone else. "So I've heard."

Shizuo goes silent then, unsure how to answer and how to keep the conversation going, not even certain that he wants it to continue. He's almost done with his bread-and-meat bun, and he thinks he'd rather finish it than talk when Izaya kicks him in the side.

Blood roars in his ears, sudden and aching, "what the _fuck_?!" He snaps sharply, his hand flashing out just as quickly to grab Izaya's ankle. His hand closes hard around his leg, feeling the press of the end of Izaya's dark pants and the small inch of skin showing the skinny bone of his ankle. Shizuo shocks himself into silence at the unexpected success.

"You're so awful to talk to," Izaya's voice is drawn out in a whine, and his arms are above his head, fingers curling around the fence as if he's stretching or trying to hold on, as if Shizuo will yank him away.

"What the hell am I supposed to say?" Irritation swarms him as the shock wears away, his hand unwittingly gripping harder on Izaya's ankle, and he can feel the give of the tendons.

But Izaya continues on, unaware, or more likely pretending to be, of the hold on his leg. "You're _supposed_ to ask me how I know about it or where he's gambling or if it's super dangerous! You're just being boring now!"

Shizuo feels a growl rising in his throat at Izaya's put-on whine, and it rips out of his chest in an unexpected question. " _Fine_. How do you know about it?"

If Izaya is as surprised, he doesn't show it. Instead, he smiles, another put-on expression. "He told me."

"Fuck off," he says, disbelieving and pushes Izaya's leg back as an exclamation to this statement.

"I'm serious," Izaya replies, using the too-hard push of his leg to swing himself back into a sitting position. "He comes by the Biology Club all the time now, and he talked to me about his plans for gambling. He wants advice."

"And you know how to gamble?" His voice is still disbelieving, but he doesn't doubt for a second that Izaya knows how to gamble; it fits too well.

The only response is a laugh, high and loud and short and then, "you'd be surprised."

"What the hell does that mean--?" But he doesn't get to find out, because the bell cuts him off with its dull chime, and Izaya is gone, a wave by the roof's door, and all that's left of him is the acidic, metal smell clinging to the air around Shizuo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of good sentences in this chapter have been pulled from A Thousand Splendid Suns (a novel I had to read over the summer) because I'm unoriginal. I'll happily disclose which ones if anyone wants.
> 
> Also, if anyone finds any mistakes (spelling, commas, etc.) please leave a message! I'd really appreciate it!


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